Same Day, Different Way
by Jen
Summary: Rent-fic. A variation on a normal day (that's all I'm saying . . .).


Okay,

**Okay, not really summarizing this one because it would give it away. This idea popped into my head and would not disappear. With FF.net down for a time, it found its way to paper. Not sure whether it would end here or continue. I'm not crazy about the title, if anyone has suggestions. Titles are always hard for me. **

**Disclaimer: Still not mine. Borrowing. Will Return. I promise.**

_**Same Day, Different Way**_

It began the same way.  
  
_Run into the loft, slam the bathroom door closed, listen to your boyfriend yell because once again he's jealous and you didn't do anything you swear._  
  
The routine was almost laughable.  
  
Mimi had learned awhile back that Roger was and always would be the jealous type. And the easily angered type. She also knew she could be just as possessive as he was.   
  
Same old routine.  
  
She would admit that, at first, she may have not had the will power to be faithful. But she loved Roger, she knew that, and hadn't done anything since Benny.  
  
That time with Benny would always drive him to separate her from any male with a wandering eye.  
  
So much for her day job.  
  
She sat on the edge of the bathtub and contemplated what her next yelled response to Roger would be. She listened to the silence that followed his last rant of "Jesus, Mimi, you weren't exactly backing off!" It was another two minutes before she yelled, "Not backing off doesn't mean I'm gonna fuck him, Roger!"  
  
Silence answered her. She waited another moment before creaking the door open. She wouldn't open it all the way in case Roger was standing there, testing out the silent treatment.  
  
"He stormed downstairs," came Mark's voice from her right. She opened the door completely and turned to find Mark fiddling with his camera on the kitchen table.   
  
"Probably cooling off," Mark continued, not looking up from his work. She realized, with a laugh, that Mark had probably witnessed close to every argument she and Roger had. He probably had a variety of them on film. She pulled out a chair and sat across from him.  
  
"You think?" she pressed, wandering if Mark, too, had the formula down.  
  
"Sure. He storms out. You pout and come out of the bathroom. He'll come back up. You'll make up and then make-out." He picked up his camera. "Then I hit my room before I capture something that could qualify as an amateur porn film." He said the last part with a smile. He set the camera down again. "You came out early, though. And Roger stormed out early." A pause. "What, varying the routine for the judges?"  
  
"Very funny," she replied and playfully hit the back of his head. "He's really being an asshole this time."  
  
"This time? That's what you say everytime. He's Roger." Mark shrugged. "Protective."  
  
"Protective's not the word I'd use," she muttered. In truth, Mark was right. Their argument didn't differ from any other one, save the big one after Angel's death. Still, she was stubborn, as was Roger, and refused to lose her ground.  
  
"It's a job. It pays bills," she said aloud. "What does he want me to do? Quit?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
She stared at Mark and shook her head. "It helps you, too, now that I live here."  
  
"Look, this is between you and Roger." Mark took to his camera again. She leaned back in her chair, somewhat dejected. She hoped she might get Mark on her side. Maybe get Roger to back down, to trust a little more . . .  
  
She must have looked disappointed, because Mark spoke up again. "Look, Mimi, if it's any consolation, Roger will be back up in a minute, you'll kiss, and things will be back to normal."  
  
"Until the next time," she sighed.  
  
"Okay, until the next time," he agreed. He turned on the camera. "Patched." He pointed it at Mimi. "Close on Mimi after her and Roger's one hundredth fight."  
  
She covered the lens with her hand. "Not hundredth."  
  
"Fiftieth?" His voice now held a teasing tone. She moved her hand.  
  
"Okay, maybe fiftieth. But I'm right," she said directly into the camera. "In case you ever see this, Roger."  
  
Mark shook his head, and turned the camera on himself.  
  
"She's beautiful, buddy. Remember that."  
  
"Hey is that a crack at me?" She popped up behind his chair and he jumped.  
  
"Jeez, Mimi, don't do that. I just called you beautiful."  
  
She sensed a hint of a somewhat serious tone creeping into his voice. She smiled and sat down next to him.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
He turned the camera off. "You are." He rested it on the table. A minute of silence passed.  
  
"So you want to time him?" Mark got up and tossed the small clock that rested on the stove to her.  
  
"Nah. Like you said, it's only a matter of time before he comes back."  
  
"Okay." He sat back down. She moved her chair closer to him.   
  
"Guess I can't bribe you to be on my side, huh?"  
  
He grinned. "And face Roger? Yeah, right. You're on your own."  
  
"Figures." She settled down in the chair.  
  
"He'll come around, Mimi. He just takes his time. You'll work something out. You love each other."  
  
Mark could be so reassuring. After every fight, she talked to him, till Roger reappeared and they made up. And he just sat there. And then he'd witness the same thing the next time it happened. Whether it was Roger, her, Collins, and even Maureen who was the slightest bit upset, he'd jump in with a reassurance. They all relied on that.

They all took it for granted.

Would she be able to put up with that kind of use?  
  
Mark was back to his camera again and she just stared at him while he worked. Her chair was still close, close enough for her to breathe on him. She wasn't thinking. She had no idea why or even how it happened.  
  
She found herself kissing Mark.  
  
He was shocked, she could tell, but after a moment, responded. The kiss lasted longer than it could - **should** - have lasted.  
  
He was the one who pulled away and immediately got out of his chair and walked toward the window.   
  
"Shit, Mimi," he muttered. "That didn't happen."  
  
"Right," she quickly agreed. She loved Roger. They were having a stupid trivial fight, something they did one a week. What was she doing?  
  
Maybe Roger was right about her wandering. But, this was Mark. Mark. Dependable Mark. There-for-you Mark. Friend Mark. Roommate Mark. Roger's best friend, Mark. Mark wasn't her type; Roger was. She looked down at the table.  
  
Mark made his way back to his chair, moving it six feet from its original position. "That was nothing, right?" His voice sounded unsure and weak, and when she looked up at him, she found herself seeing someone different than before.  
  
"Nothing," she answered   
  
"Good." He visibly relaxed. "We don't tell anyone?"  
  
"Right." She wished she could utter more than one word sentences, but her brain wasn't cooperating. Suddenly the door clicked open and Roger walked in, ready to somewhat resolve their argument.  
  
She tried to focus back on her "I'm-still-mad-at-you-Roger" mood but instead wandered back to the little voice in her head that admitted kissing Mark hadn't exactly been a bad experience.  
  
She wondered if Roger noticed.   


**Yep, the idea that just didn't go away. I don't know what I choke it up to. Don't even it know if it sounds plausible and I may be crazy with this idea (not unusual, my best tells me I'm crazy all the time, lol g). Drop me a review to let me know what you think . . . **


End file.
